


An Incredibly Platonic Evening (Plus One Remix)

by kdm103020



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Dancing, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Tony Stark, Pining, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-09-20 08:37:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9483104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kdm103020/pseuds/kdm103020
Summary: After years of pining for Steve, Tony invites him to a charity galastrictly as friends.  It’s not date.  Sure, he might want something more, but it’s totally manageable so long as Steve stays in the dark.  Right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sineala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Plus One](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7109656) by [Sineala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/pseuds/Sineala). 
  * In response to a prompt by [Sineala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/pseuds/Sineala) in the [Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness_2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness_2017) collection. 



Tony was going to die.  His heart, never his best organ since the whole terrorist, shrapnel, car battery thing, was beating a mile and minute and was due to burst out of his chest any moment now.  What had made him think this was even a remotely good idea? 

After over a decade of pining over Steve, he’s about to do the unthinkable and ask him out.  Well, not _out_ out, because that would talk a level of gumption he can’t bring himself to muster.  Anything remotely resembling a romantic overture runs the risk of losing Steve, which is Not Acceptable under any circumstances.  Ergo, instead of asking the object of his oh-so-unrequited affection out on an actual date, he’s proposing a non-date, in which Steve can choose to accompany him to a social event strictly as friends. 

Never let it be said that Tony Stark is not a masochist of the first order.

Still, even the thought of asking Steve on this definitely-not-a-date is still fucking terrifying.  If Steve says no, he’s not exactly sure he can compartmentalize the rejection.  Worse still, what if Steve says yes out of some misplaced sense of duty, and he gets to taunt himself with the parody of what he’ll never have? 

So here he is, sneaking around in his own hallway, weighing the merits of ambushing Steve at breakfast.  Yeah, he should probably step back and reconsider his life choices. 

Too late.  Steve’s already seen him, so there’s no way he could possibly turn back now without looking like a complete and total idiot, or at least more of one than he already is. 

“Hey Cap,” he says, pasting a smile on his face and stepping into the kitchen.  “Sleep okay?” 

“Yeah,” Steve answers, smearing cream cheese on a bagel.  “You?”

 _No.  Not at all.  I laid awake half the night trying to find a casual way to ask you out._ “Well enough.”  _Deep breath._   “So, listen, I was wondering if you could help me with something.” 

“Sure, anything,” Steve replies, blissfully unaware of the mayhem currently going on inside Tony’s head.   

 _Keep it casual._   “So, SI’s hosting a fundraiser tonight.  You know, one of those benefit galas where the rich and famous donate money to causes they pretend to care about.”  _Fabulous, Stark, way to sell it._ “Anyway, I’m sort of contractually obligated to make an appearance at this thing, and I was sort of hoping you’d go with me.” 

Tony doesn’t get an answer so much as he got a sputter.  Apparently, his casual, definitely platonic dinner invitation was cause for a massive choking fit and desperate gasps for air.   He tries to keep the smile pasted on his face, not wanting to let Steve see just how much he was invested in his response, but he can feel his grin dropping after a good five seconds of coughing.  

"Whoa, hey!" he said, reaching out to pat Steve’s back. "Not the reaction I was expecting. Are you all right?"

Steve’s throat muscles work, trying to clear the obstruction.  He chokes out a few weak coughs, eyes still cast down toward his clenched fist, before sputtering, "You can't be serious."

 _Why not,_ his brain wanted to ask.  Why wouldn't he want to spend the evening with someone’s whose company he sincerely enjoyed, even if the circumstances were less than ideal?  He cocks his head a bit, asking, “Of course I'm serious. I want you to come to the gala with me. Why wouldn't I be serious?"

Steve ducks his chin, eyes once more turning back to the floor as if he couldn’t bear to meet Tony’s eyes.  As his head tilted down, his hands slowly came up as he gestures back and forth between the two of them.  "I've seen who you take to these shindigs, Tony,” he starts, his voice hesitant.  “I'm a little less... feminine... than your usual date."

Tony’s brain immediately translates:  _I’m a guy.  A guy who, in the ten years we’ve known each other, has never once shown interest in other men.  What makes you think it’s remotely appropriate to ask me out?_

Tony automatically starts to retreat.  "If it bothers you--"

"It doesn't," Steve cuts him off but quickly continues, "I just-- if I show up on your arm, aren't there going to be even more rumors about you in the papers?”

And there it is, yet another reason Tony is so irrevocably crazy over Steve.  Instead of worrying about the media frenzy destined to ensue if Captain America – gasp – dated a man, Steve’s mind immediately gravitates to the impact those rumors will have on Tony.  It’s not as if those tabloid bottom feeders haven’t tried anything and everything over the years to sell a few extra copies.  He doubts they’d stop at dragging Steve’s name through the mud if they could up their numbers with groundless rumors. 

He says as much to Steve, leaving out the details about his unreciprocated crush but expressing his overall frustration with paparazzi.  To his surprise, Steve’s eyes droop.    

"You want me to be your date for the good publicity?"

“No!” he blurts, automatically.  No matter the crazy stunts he’s pulled in the past, he’d never stoop to using Steve as a publicity stunt, and it honestly kind of hurts that Steve would think it of him.  He mentally gathers himself and tries to explain.  "It's like this. I'm not looking forward to this one. People think they know me, and it's all games and gossip and little backstabbing remarks, and I just-- I'm sick of it. And you're my friend, and if I have to do this, I'd rather not go it alone. I'd rather have someone I actually like at my side. That's all. But I understand if you don't want to."

There.  That sounded appropriately aromantic, right?  Just two friends, enjoying each other’s company and fending off society vultures.  No ulterior motive at all. 

At least Steve seems to be considering it.  The hurt, puppy dog look he’d sported a moment ago slowly transitions into something a bit less wounded.  “No,” he answers, “I'd love to." 

And just like that, Tony’s entire mood flips.  He’d thought he’d had a relatively good chance of convincing Steve to go along with his plan, considering Steve’s general willingness to help a friend, but Steve’s yes had turned a pipe dream into a reality. 

“Great,” he says, smiling brightly.  “In that case, I’ll see you later tonight!” He turns, leaving the room before he did something crazy, like start gushing to Steve about how amazing he was.  Nothing good ever comes of his mindless babbling.    

 

* * *

 

 _Not a date.  Not a date.  Not a date_. 

If he keeps repeating the mantra to himself, maybe his subconscious will finally internalize the message.  No matter how much he might want this…outing…to be something more, he knows Steve sees it as nothing more than one friend helping out another.  Still, that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy his evening.  He’s dealt with his feelings for Steve this long; he can deal with them for a few more hours, especially if it means he gets to spend an otherwise miserable evening alongside his best friend. 

He’s buttoning up a cufflink when he hears a knock at the door, and isn’t that just great?  He’s spent so long ~~primping~~ ~~stressing out~~ getting ready that he’s late for his very first non-date with Steve.  Mentally cursing, he makes his way to the door.  He is nowhere near prepared for what’s on the other side. 

He should be immune to seeing Steve suited up, but Steve Rogers in the Captain America uniform will never cease to be an arrhythmia inducing vision unparalleled among humankind.  The skin-tight fabric draws attention to his ridiculously perfect physique, and the dark blue of the suit brings out the blue of his eyes. Of course, he’s seen Steve in the uniform on countless occasions throughout the years, but there’s always something so enticing about Cap in the suit pre-fight.  He looks so…pristine, as if he’s begging someone to come along and muss him up. 

Yeah, the whole platonic-bros-helping-each-other-out thing is going to be harder to pull off than he thought. 

And yet, Steve’s lust-inducing appearance is surprisingly only the second most surprising detail of the night.  First place goes to the flowers he’s holding out to Tony. 

Tony’s brain simply cannot process the implications of said flowers.  He can describe them; Steve is holding a tasteful bouquet of red, orange, and yellow flowers – _Iron Man colors –_ primarily roses cut with some other flower that he can’t quite identify – _Gerber daisies, maybe –_ for texture.  The entire spray is wrapped in some sort of florist’s tissue, which crinkles as Steve extends his arm.  That visual does nothing to explain the presence of said florals. 

"I got these for you,” Steve says, offering Tony the bouquet. 

Tony has no frame of reference for this, and thus it’s not entirely his fault that his brain can’t send a viable message to his mouth.   His thoughts are still buffering. 

_He’s just being chivalrous._

_He grew up during the 1930s; this is what polite people did._

_Of course, this is what polite people do when their best friend asks them out on a non-date._

_Right?_

After an uncomfortably long silence, he composes himself enough to cease his impression of a drunken owl and take the bouquet from a now blushing Steve.  _Way to make it awkward, Stark._

"A real gentleman, huh?” he asks with a deliberate smile. 

Steve can’t help but smile back.  “I try.” 

Clutching the flowers to his chest, Tony steps back into his room.  “I’m not quite ready yet.  Give me ten minutes or so?” 

Steve, still smiling, responds, “No problem.  I’ll just wait for you in the living room.” 

He turns to leave, and Tony gives him a slight nod before closing his door.  Once there’s a barrier between them again, he immediately slumps back against the door, his head softly banging against the wood. 

This was going to kill him. 

 

* * *

 

Despite an awkward beginning, their evening goes fairly well.  Tony’s churned out every conceivable variation of “We’re not a couple” to everyone that approaches them, and there are a surprising number of people that approach them.  After a while, he forgets to be nervous about the not-date and relaxes into enjoying the evening. 

Because Steve Rogers is the World’s Most Devious Troll.™  Underneath that clean-cut, all-American exterior is a sneaky bastard who will respond to meddlesome senators’ allusions to Tony’s history in the weapons business with not so subtle references to their own campaign contributions from the NRA.  Pretty soon, people start to get the hint that you do not belittle Tony Stark in front of Captain America.  It’s glorious.  Seriously, if Tony had known Steve was this snarky, he’d have started bringing him to these things years ago. 

Such cattiness deserves appetizers.  Catching the eye of one of the circulating waiters, Tony gestures for him to come closer. 

“Can I help you, Sir?”  

“Yes,” says Tony, eyeing the goat cheese crostini on the tray in front of him.  “See that man over there?” he asks, motioning toward Steve.  The waiter’s eyes widen.

“You mean Captain America?” 

“That’s the one.  Please do your country a service and go feed the man.  And if you can, convince one of your buddies with the shrimp to do the same.”  There’s barely enough food at these events for a regular person, but it must be terrible for someone with Steve’s metabolism. 

The man nods and makes his way across the room to where Steve is talking to someone from Veterans Affairs.  When the waiter holds up his tray for inspection, Steve smiles and takes two of the proffered appetizers. 

Tony smiles.  They’ll probably still have to raid the refrigerator when they get home, but at least Steve won’t starve in the meantime. 

 

* * *

 

Tony should probably stop sniggering, but the situation is too hilarious for words.  Captain America can simultaneously hold a map New York City in his head and coordinate advanced tactical maneuvers, but he can’t handle a simple box step. 

“You are terrible at this,” he laughs against Steve’s shoulder.  "Oh my God, how are you so terrible at this?"

Steve is less than amused.  “It's not a super-dancer serum.”

"But it doesn't make any sense,” Tony responds, his voice caught between laughter and confusion.  “You're so graceful.”  Seriously, the man throws backflips into his sparring sessions and swan dives off airplanes.  "I've seen you work out. I've seen you fight. You're breathtaking. And... you can't dance?"

He expects Steve to snap back like he usually does when Tony pushes.  When he doesn’t answer, Tony looks up, sees the pinched expression on Steve’s face, and immediately knows he’s messed up.

After Howard died, Tony reluctantly took over his yearly arctic fishing expedition.  He’s read the transcripts from the crash, knows all about the raincheck that never got cashed, and he’s pretty sure he knows exactly what’s running through Steve’s head right now. 

"Oh," he says, quietly. "Oh. Shit. I'm sorry."

"No," Steve starts to reply, the pinched look still on his face. "No, it's fine--"

"I really am sorry," he says, backing up and still desperate to apologize. “Look, we can sit down, or – or I can lead, if you want?"

He fully expects Steve to reject him, which is why it’s so surprising when Steve says yes.  Well, in for a penny…

He places his hand on Steve’s lower back and draws them closer together, feeling the muscles in Steve’s back twitch underneath his palm, most likely still tense from Tony’s latest verbal snafu.  He tries to keep his voice light, murmuring softly for Steve to relax and follow his lead.  Applying slight pressure, he guides Steve’s feet backwards and pulls his waist in closer, so that they’re almost cheek to cheek.  The hairs on his cheek vibrate with the near contact.    

Steve’s usual grace reasserts itself after a few bars of music, and the tension gradually eases from his back, but that just brings on a whole new set of problems.  They’ve found a rhythm far too easily, and now all Tony can think is that he’s _holding Steve_ , well, they’re holding each other, really.   It's a good thing that his face is overlooking Steve’s shoulder, since it probably gives away far more than he can ever say. 

"There we go," Tony breathes against Steve’s cheek. "That's better."

"You're good at that," Steve replies, and Tony smiles, pulling back slightly.

"That's what you get when your father sends you away to boarding school at age eight." His brain immediately summons memories of itchy uniforms and sitting in class with boys twice his age.  "Well, you also get bullying, a lot of emotional trauma, a lasting inability to form stable relationships, and so many other unpleasant fringe benefits, but you do learn to dance."

Steve's clutches his hand even tighter. "I'm so sorry that happened to you."

"It's in the past."

"Doesn't mean it's not important."

It seems as if he can’t last a minute without dredging something up something horrific from the past.  If he’s not bringing up Steve’s blighted happily ever after, he’s dipping into his incredibly deep pool of daddy issues.  Open mouth, insert foot. 

"Sorry again," Tony says after a few bars of silence. "I have this awful habit of oversharing on dates."

He immediately recognizes his mistake.  _Not a date.  Not a date.  Not a date._ Fortunately, Steve doesn’t catch his little Freudian slip. "I don't mind," he insists. "I like it."

_And that’s what makes you ridiculously, untouchably perfect._

"Yeah, well," he says aloud. "You'd be the first."

 

* * *

 

Like all good things, the night eventually comes to an end.  The clock’s long since struck midnight, and it’s time for him to turn back into a pumpkin. 

(He’s mentally labored to get that scenario to work out in his favor, but, let’s face it, between the two of them, Steve will always end up as Prince Charming.  Oh well.  If he’s going to work that metaphor, at least he’ll end up with some really advanced, custom fit, repulsor-propelled thrusters as a consolation prize.  Which he will immediately reverse engineer and upgrade.)

Once outside the door to the mansion, he lays a hand on Steve’s arm, if only to extend the night a bit longer. 

"Thanks,” he says in as neutral of tone as possible.  “I know this can't have been much fun for you, but I appreciate it. It was nice to have you around."

Steve’s smile is just barely visible in the porch light. "It wasn't any kind of hardship.  Best fake date I've ever been on."

"How many fake dates have you been on, then?” he replies.  He aims for a light tone, but he’s pretty sure the delivery falls somewhere closer to rueful.

“Only this one," Steve says softly, "but I can't imagine anything better."

And that was just…actually, that made no sense.  That sort of crosses the boundaries of Steve being a good friend and strays more into the realm of…something more.  Tony freezes, convinced that if he moves too suddenly he’ll spook the super soldier, and tries to parse out _exactly_ what Steve means. 

_I can’t imagine anything better._

Okay, Tony can imagine quite a few things better than a substandard charity gala chocked full of political sycophants and bad food.  He’s personally fought several alien species that are more likeable than some members of the House Oversight Committee.  Yet in spite of everything, Steve seems to have enjoyed the evening – no, more than that – he _can’t imagine anything better_. 

And when he thinks back on it, the night hasn’t been that bad.  In fact, his most pressing memories are of walking in with Steve at his side, of feeling Steve’s waist under his hand and his breath on his face as they danced. 

Tony is a scientist, and as such, he has always placed his faith in facts.  Facts aggregate to form specific systems of knowledge, and those knowledge systems make sense of the physical world.  Up until this point, all the facts at his disposal have suggested Steve views him solely as a friend – a close one, obviously, but one who has no desire for their relationship to turn into something more.  Now, though, he can’t be sure, and the paradigm under which he’s operated for so long comes crashing down around his ears. 

Steve agreed to accompany him to something that wasn’t _technically_ a date but admittedly had date-like components. 

Steve defended him against catty senators. 

Steve danced with him. 

Steve _can’t imagine anything better_ than their “fake” date.

Most telling of all, though, is the way Steve is currently holding himself stock still, as if he’s the one whose entire universe is hanging on the outcome of their conversation.   Tony is intimately familiar with that sensation. 

From the rubble of his previous schema, Tony can only draw one conclusion; Steve loves him.  Steve _loves_ him, and he’s just spent the entire night insisting that they are not in fact a couple. 

"Oh," he breathes, hand tightening on Steve’s arm.  He can’t lose this, can’t lose Steve, now that he’s finally within his reach. "Oh, God, Steve, I didn't know--"

Steve looks utterly miserable, as if he regrets ever speaking.  "I'm sorry," he apologizes, trying to pull away. 

"I'm sorry too.”  Sorry that he’s waited so long for this.  Fuck it all; he’s done waiting. 

He moves, placing one of his hands behind Steve’s neck and threads the other through his hair.  Their combined momentum drives them back against the door, and Steve is trapped between Tony’s chest and the hands cradling his head.  Before Steve can finish his utterly pointless apology, Tony presses their mouths together. 

Their first kiss is not technically perfect, but what it lacks in form it makes up for in intensity.  Tony fuses their lips, trying to convey years of want and need and love in a single moment.  His tongue runs along the seam of Steve’s lips, at last daring to hope that he and Steve are finally on the same page.   

And Steve is responding more enthusiastically than he ever could have wished for.  His hands have curled around Tony’s back, pulling him tight to his chest as if he’s never going to let him go.  Everywhere their bodies touch feels like it’s on fire, each point of contact a tiny flame that builds the longer they maintain contact. 

Tony could have stayed that way forever, kissing Steve outdoors in the moonlight, but he knows there are things he needs to say.  He pulls back but consoles himself with the knowledge that he can repeat the process as soon as possible. 

He looks straight into Steve’s beautiful eyes, currently blown wide with need.  He needs to clarify so many things now that he finally can. 

“I'm sorry I didn't do this ten years ago. I'm a goddamn idiot. And I-- I thought that we had to pretend, I thought that this was all I could have--"

"I thought it was all I could have," Steve interrupts his voice barely a whisper. 

Tony’s responding laugh is somewhere between hysteria and joy.  Little does Steve know, he could have had him anytime, anyplace for the past decade.  They’re both idiots.  Rather than dignify his ludicrous statement with a response, he moves in to start kissing Steve but finds himself leaning forward more than should be possible.

 _What!?_ – Oh.  Jarvis, apparently done wondering why they’re loitering outside, has opened the door, which has the unfortunate consequence of causing Steve to tumble back into the house. 

Damnit, Jarvis!  He had plans for Steve…

Jarvis’ momentary start of surprise is quickly replaced with the Eyebrow of Reproach, but Tony has long since learned the subtitles of said eyebrow.  Jarvis totally approves. 

“A good evening?” he asks, tone level but eyes sparkling. 

"An excellent evening," Tony responds, and isn’t that the understatement of the century?  He turns back to Steve.  "But now I owe you a real date."

Steve grins. "Tomorrow?"

Absolutely.  Tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that. "I'd love to."  He grabs Steve’s hand and drags them inside; they can have their date tomorrow, but he’s not quite done with Steve tonight.

 

* * *

 

A picture of them dancing at the gala makes the society pages the next morning.

Tony laughs at Steve’s framed picture – _Seriously, Steve, hard copies? –_ but he does set the image as his phone’s lock screen.  It stays that way for a very long time. 

 


	2. Original Art by nanuk_dain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now with original art!

The incredible [nanuk_dain](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nanuk_dain/pseuds/nanuk_dain) created two manips for this story, which you can find [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10653108).  Please show the original post some love and subscribe to her work, because everything she posts is amazing!!!

 

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/nanuk_dain/16335757/122477/122477_original.jpg)

***

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/nanuk_dain/16335757/122821/122821_original.jpg)

**Author's Note:**

> Tony’s romantic “paradigm shift” is modeled on Thomas Kuhn’s theory of knowledge construction as laid out in _The Structure of Scientific Revolutions_. It was (and is) a significant advance in the way humans conceptualize scientific progress and, in my view, functions as the perfect template for oblivious lovers. Basically, Kuhn claims that scientific progress is not a continual aggregate of facts; instead, scientists operate under one paradigm until a new theory comes along and invalidates previous frameworks, such as when European scientists conceded the truth of a heliocentric universe. In other words, contradictory information comes along, breaks the damn, and forces scientific thought to reset. 
> 
> Great for analyzing the English Restoration and shipping clueless superheroes.
> 
> Kudos and comments are love!  You can find me [here](http://kdm103020.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.  

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Hardcopy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10653108) by [nanuk_dain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanuk_dain/pseuds/nanuk_dain)




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